"god, you remind me of coming up for air. sunscreen-slicked and grass stains and the way you say my name." these are portraits of the people in my life, for better or for worse. [SKOW best poetry winner]

India. People who get into IIT have a minimum IQ of 160. They study 12 hours a day in highschool. They're at the top of the fiercely competitive Indian academic food chain. Science freaks. Uber geeks. Social life? Ha, you hardly have time to breathe. Where does love fit in? Each chapter is less than 200 words.

So his friend was the one who got the crossdressing girl in the all boys school. Like Tristan Harland is ever the type to lose out, especially not to some girl who stalked him all the way from China. Problem is, she isn't exactly the type to lose either.

India, 2010. I like kebabs and kaleidoscopes, the Tyndall effect and wallpaint shades. What I get is Bollywood glitterati, drama queens on sugar highs, a girls' school, waltzing penguins and Ludo with human souls as the tokens. Hug, please?

And it'll be a topsyturvy mish mash of exuberance piled haphazardly on young people's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious dreams and we'll sing as emotions husk and refine our voices into incandescently magnificent.